


We Who Stand Dishonored

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Feels, Basically Hate Speech, Bifur is Bofur and Bombur's Surrogate Daddy, Bullying, Character Death, Cruelty, Disdain, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Bonding, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gossip, Insults, Kid Fic, Orphans, People Watching, Surrogacy, get over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumors are spreading about Bifur Broadbeam and the two orphans he's recently adopted. Of course Bifur ignores the gossip, caring only to fill his little cousins' tummies and hearts.</p><p>But then Bofur and Bombur start calling Bifur "Adad", meaning they think of him as their father. Needless to say, the whisperings become far more like open hatred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Who Stand Dishonored

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdûl:
> 
> Entlin = duckling, sweetheart

When he heard that his widowed Aunt Joniver had finally died of illness, Bifur took in his orphaned cousins without hesitation. He couldn’t bear to think of charming Bofur and adorable Bombur alone in the cruelty of this world.

However, Bifur began to notice that some of his peers were questioning. They never said anything to his face, but Bifur was an observant fellow. It started out as subtle whispers, dubious murmurings as Bifur passed by with his cousins in tow.

“He’s poor enough already without two more mouths to feed!”

“I’ll bet he doesn’t feed them t’all. They’re naught more’n skeletons...”

Personally Bifur didn’t care what everyone else thought. Bofur and Bombur deserved a roof over their heads. They deserved someone to hug away every pain, someone to sing them to sleep, someone to nurture and teach them. The lads were young enough, Bifur believed, that if he smothered them in enough love it might soothe their pain. So smother them he did and he saw that they were indeed healing because of it.

Then something unexpected innocently nudged the facts of Bifur’s role. The Broadbeams had spent a late night out and it was far past bedtime for the little ones. Bifur returned home with a tired head resting on each of his shoulders. Carefully Bifur pushed open the door to their bedroom and began tucking Bofur and Bombur into their beds.

Bombur was asleep already and therefore didn’t notice the transfer, but Bofur was just alert enough to slip his arms round Bifur’s neck before he could be settled down.

“No...Bed’s cold,” he murmured sleepily, pressing his face into Bifur’s neck. “Ye’re warm, Adad.”

Bifur stiffened for a few breathless moments. Nevertheless he relented, walking silently toward the rocker in the living room. There he sat, tilting back and forth in a gentle rhythm. He brooded on Bofur’s words long after the Dwarfling had fallen asleep tucked against his chest.

The next morning Bofur called Bifur “Adad” again, which blew away Bifur’s hope that Bofur had just made a mistake in his lethargy. Because Bifur was too stunned to stop him, Bofur declared Bifur his daddy thereafter. Bombur caught on soon enough and he also got into the habit.

When it first began, Bifur felt uncomfortable and guilty about it. He didn’t want to take the place of their true father, Bromur. Still, there was something in the way the lads said it, with shy hope and adoration in their voices...in truth, it melted Bifur’s heart all the more for them.

Unfortunately, all it did to the hearts of others was harden them. Bifur should have told the lads to call him “Adad” only in private, because it was only a matter of time before someone else heard. They were in the market and Bifur took his eyes off his cousins for half a second while he was chatting with some familiar mates. When he glanced down, they had vanished.

Bifur immediately panicked. The search, though it only lasted about fifteen minutes, seemed to take an eternity. At last Bifur heard the children’s voices. He turned and spotted them sitting together on the cobblestones.

Even through the blur of terror, Bofur and Bombur recognized their surrogate father as he rounded the corner. “Adad!” they howled in unison, scrambling into Bifur’s outstretched arms. Bifur was too relieved that he’d found his charges to notice the shocked and incredulous looks among his fellow searchers.

The breathy whispers became mutterings in low tones that, Bifur would soon discover, changed the opinions even of the children. One day, Bombur burst into the house with welling eyes.

“Adad,” he whimpered, reaching his arms out for Bifur. Bifur immediately scooped up the youngest of their trio and sat in the rocker.

“What is it, entlin?” Bifur asked tenderly.

“Th-The other boys won’t play with me. They say their amas and adads don’t like me!”

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“They think I’m dishonored b-because...because you aren’t my real adad!”

Bifur heard a noise and turned to look. Bofur was balling his small fists.

“Dishonored, are ye?” he growled. “Oh, don’t ye worry, Bombur, I’ll show em’ what it is t’ be dishonored!”

“Bofur!” Bifur knew exactly what his cousin was thinking and leapt to his feet, but Bofur dodged him and disappeared out the door.

Bombur pressed his face into Bifur’s tunic. “Now they _definitely_ won’t play with me.”

Bifur pursed his lips. “You’ll have to find someone else, then,” he sighed sadly.

Bofur came home late at night, limping and cradling his arm. His face was grimly bashed up, making his expression unreadable. Bifur guided Bofur to the table and retrieved a bowl of water and a washcloth that he’d already prepared.

“Was it a good fight?” Bifur asked quietly as he wrung out the wet washcloth.

Bofur nodded somberly. “I trounced five o’ them ’fore their older brothers showed up,” he murmured.

“Hold still now.” Carefully Bifur pressed the cloth against one of the long gashes on Bofur’s face.

“Ow!” Bofur gasped. Tears crept from his wide eyes, trailing through the blood and dirt on his cheeks. “Ooooo.”

“I know it stings, but the sting is the healing pain,” Bifur whispered.

Soon enough Bifur was the only one awake in the house. Agitatedly, he paced back and forth. If the rumors continued, there would be more enemies to deal with. But how could he stop them? He certainly couldn’t stand on a table in the marketplace and make a speech commanding everyone to leave them alone. Bifur was usually the quiet sort; speeches were not his forte.

The next day Bifur took one look at their pantry and knew he had to make a trip to the market. He considered stretching their supplies for one day, but he’d have to face the townspeople eventually and decided to get it over with.

It was a dark, cloudy day due to a storm brewing in the heavens, which gave Bifur an excuse to wear his hood. People recognized him anyway, however, because of his unique silver-streaked beard that hung long over his chest.

“Oh, look who it is. Wonder where his little ones are today?”

“Did you hear? Now he’s letting them call him Adad!”

“Goes about supposedly grieving for Joniver and Bromur, then turns around and steals their children for his own.”

“Shameful.”

“Appalling.”

Grounding his teeth, Bifur rigidly ignored the words of passerby, which were just loud enough for him to hear. The eldest Broadbeam bought meat and a bit of cheese, but when he went to the bread cart, the seller didn’t respond to his request.

Still trying desperately to keep his temper in control, Bifur cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, do I need to speak up?”

The merchant still remained silent, staring fixedly at anything that wasn’t Bifur.

“ _Sir_ ,” Bifur repeated, his tone becoming less and less polite.

Finally the other Dwarf met Bifur’s eyes. “I don’t assist child-snatchers,” he announced calmly.  

As soon as the words translated in his mind, Bifur lunged over the cart and made certain that the bread seller’s face would _never_ be the same again.

When released from his overnight stay in jail, Bifur rushed home as fast as he could, ready to soothe his cousins’ fear and dry their faces that were sure to be wet with tears—

No one was there.

Bifur stood paralyzed, gaping at the empty house. His heart was racing and the world seemed to spin. Then he launched into action. He tore through each room, shouting as loud as he could, but no one answered. When Bifur burst into the Dwarflings’ room, he found that each bed was still messy and undone from last night, but something important was missing.

Bombur’s stuffed rabbit that Bifur had given him had vanished also. Bifur tried to draw the connections. If the lads had left the house against their will, whoever had taken them wouldn’t have stopped for Bombur to grab his rabbit. So they had left the house willingly. Was it someone they knew who had taken them? No, if that had been the case they still would have been in a hurry, not wanting to leave any trace that Bifur might recognize. Then how—

They hadn’t been taken. They had left him on purpose.

With this knowledge squeezing the warmth from his heart, Bifur whirled and raced back outside, dashing along the side path that led to the wooded pond the lads loved so much.

Sure enough, he saw two small figures walking slowly in the distance, one of them with a stuffed rabbit hanging across his shoulders. Bifur screamed their names at the top of his lungs and they turned in disbelief. Gathering up the Dwarflings in a suffocating embrace, Bifur berated them and scolded them and comforted them in a long stream of broken sentences.

“You little _fools_ —I thought someone had snatched you—Oh, please don’t cry—I love you so much—How could you do that to me—Don’t think you need to leave ever again—I don’t care what anyone else says—you mean the world to me...”

“B-But we want people to like you again,” Bombur sobbed out.

“Then we’ll move!” Bifur declared savagely. “Move where they don’t care who you are or what you do or who you call your adad! I’ll admit, you had the right idea to leave that place. Just make sure you take me with you!”

Bofur and Bombur buried their faces in Bifur’s beard. “We will,” Bofur promised tearfully.

Bifur kissed each of his boys hard on their cheeks and walked with them back toward the house. They still needed to gather their things.

 


End file.
